


Glitch

by snibnoom



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: M/M, i allude to some... mature content... not explicit though!!, my hand slipped?, quite a bit of hard language too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-04 23:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13375734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snibnoom/pseuds/snibnoom
Summary: The System was created to put together the perfect pairing of people: a Match. Will it be able to do its job?





	1. From the Cleanse

“The System produces accurate Matches for 99.8% of people.”

Bin sighs, leaning his head back on his pillow. He’s heard the statistics and formulas and statements from happily married couples his _entire_ life. He’s tired of hearing them, but his PC seems to be stuck in a loop of repeating the same sentiments every other Monday morning.

“Through factoring a series of logical and emotional tests with a percentage of your personal preferences, the System—”

“Yeah, I _get_ it,” Bin snaps, sitting up suddenly. He glares at the small disk object on his desk. “Why do you have to tell me this every morning?”

The disk is silent for a moment before the automated female voice says, “Listening to System statistics offers the greatest sense of security and trust in people on their Match test days. Would you like me to stop this action?”

“Yes, _please_ , for crying out loud.” Bin sighs, laying back on his bed.

The disk’s voice changes, saying “error” in a harsh robotic voice unlike the usual voice. The normal female voice returns quickly. “It appears there is an issue with me stopping this action. Listening to System statistics is required on your Match Day. However, I can pause my repetition of System statistics momentarily if you would like.”

Bin slides out of his bed, stumbling over to grab his PC. “What did you just say?”

“I can pause my repetition of System statistics momentarily if you would like.”

“No”—Bin shakes his head—”before that.”

“Listening to System statistics is required on your Match Day.”

Bin smirks, sinking into a squat. “Today’s my Match Day?”

“That is correct.”

Bin leans against the wall, the relief flooding through him. Every second Monday for the last year and a half has meant Bin traveling to a Hub to test. Logic tests, emotional tests, simulation after simulation after simulation to gauge his responses and find him his appropriate Match. He hasn’t been alone in these tests, however, as half the Unmatched population of his district goes to the Hub every other monday, but being with other Unmatched people doesn’t make the strain of it any easier. But today is his _Match Day_. The System has done its job and has finally found someone for him.

“Alright,” Bin says, jumping to his feet, “what do I do first?”

Fifteen minutes later, and Bin is on the bumpy bus ride from his building to the Hub. His hair is still slightly damp, but he can’t find it in him to care. He can’t even seem to find the frustrating feeling he usually feels when riding along the uneven road. Bin has waited for his Match Day his entire life. It’s the only thing that really _matters_ in life, after all. It’s the beginning of the rest of his life. Bin smirks, ducking his head to hide his smug expression. Chanwoo is going to be furious when he finds out Bin was matched first.

The Hub looks the same as it always does, but as it appears on the horizon in an open field, Bin feels the same rush of excitement he had felt when he first saw it. It’s a simple white building surrounded by vibrant and extremely well-cared-for grass. As a child, Bin had passed the Hub every day on his way to school. Being able to finally be part of the System, being able to go to the Hub for his Cleanse on his 20th birthday had been a dream come true.

Bin steps off the bus with half of the passengers, men and women all between the ages of 20 and 30. They’re all Unmatched, but Bin will soon leave them behind. Soon he’ll know who he’s going to spend the rest of his life with. Soon he’ll know who he’s supposed to _love_.

The white walls in the lobby of the Hub have the same holograms looping on them as always. A man and a woman flash on the wall, arms around each other, smiling. “Believe in the System, and your dreams will come true,” says a disembodied voice. Bin had grown to hate that voice, but with the giddiness flying through him, he can’t find that same hate anymore. It’s as if all the hate has been sucked out of him and replaced with pure joy.

Bin swipes his ID card over the small podium, and the glass doors slide open before him. He walks a little too fast to his compartment, Number 265. The lights fade to the perfect brightness for his eyes, adjusted just for him. Bin slides into the chair, setting his PC on the small indention in the slightly tilted desk before him.

The desk flickers before showing the blue loading screen Bin is so used to seeing. He sighs, setting his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair. Who is he being Matched with? On his first Match test day, Bin had set his preferences as _general_ , which means it could quite literally be anybody. Bin hopes they’re nice. He hopes they’re funny. Will they have already received their job assignment? Bin is still waiting on his.

The desk changes. Bin leans forward, ignoring the question: _Would you like to update your preferences?_ The question has been the same for the last year and a half. Bin taps _no_.

“Required tests: none,” Bin reads off the desk. His brows pull together. Is that normal? He supposes it is. He doesn’t need to take any more of the ridiculous tests if his Match has been made. 

Bin squints at the new button in the bottom right corner of the desk screen. It’s a pale blue triangle with a yellow exclamation mark, grabbing his attention away from the rather dull appearance of the rest of the screen. He hesitates. If anything, it looks like a _do not touch this_ button. Bin’s finger hovers over it for a moment longer before he taps it.

“Would you like to review the memories from your initial Cleanse?”

Bin blinks. “From my Cleanse?”

“On an individual’s Match Day,” the familiar female voice says, “said individual may review the blocked memories from the Cleanse that occured on their 20th birthday. A secondary pre-Match Ceremony Cleanse will be required if you choose to proceed.”

Two options pop up on the desk: _yes_ and _no_.

It seems like a trick. The purpose of the Cleanse is to wipe any bad memories from before someone is entered into the System. It’s almost like a restart. Bin would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious what the System had taken away from him, though.

“Will reviewing it change my Match?” Bin asks.

There’s silence, and then, “No, reviewing the memories from your initial Cleanse will most likely not change your Match.”

“Most likely?”

“There is a 0.03% chance that reviewing the memories from your initial Cleanse will result in a Fault.”

Bin hums, leaning back in his chair again. Faults are only incorrect Matches. If seeing something from his Cleanse would prevent him from being Matched with the right person…

Bin taps _yes_.

“Please wait for assistance.”

Bin only has to wait two minutes. A woman appears at his compartment, knocking lightly on the frosted glass door. With her inside, the room is quite cramped, and the door can’t shut properly without the sensor opening the door again seconds later. The woman doesn’t speak except to give Bin short instructions.

“Place your hand on the desk, palm up.”

He does.

“You’re going to feel a pinch.”

Bin blinks, and the needle has already been stuck into his inner elbow. He gasps, but the needle is gone by the time the noise has left him.

“Hold still.”

Bin hasn't been moving, but he holds still anyway. The woman presses something cool and gummy-feeling to his temple. He pokes a finger at it.

“Don’t touch.”

Bin makes a face at the woman’s demands, his nose scrunching. The gummy _thing_ on his temple has a cord attached to it, which the woman connects to the single USB port on his PC. His desk shows a new dialogue box, but the woman pats his shoulder, interrupting his chance to read the text.

“When you’re done, there will be an option to call for me on your desk.”

Just like that, she’s gone. Bin takes a moment to focus himself on the situation at hand after the whirlwind the woman had brought with her. He touches the gummy item stuck to his temple, realizing that it’s just a regular patch with a different adhesive. It must serve some purpose, of course. Image display, maybe? Bin doesn’t really care what it does, as long as it works.

Bin’s voice sounds loud in the quiet room as he reads from the screen. “Do you want to proceed with reviewing the memories from your initial Cleanse?”

With a deep breath, Bin taps _yes_ , and then he shuts his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoooo! I told you guys 2018 was going to be full of myungbin. This will be short (or at least I plan on it being quite short). This was also inspired by _Black Mirror_ , the book _Matched_ and the _Uglies_ series. I've been wanting to write some actual sci-fi stuff for a while, like, set far in the future, so I'm killing two birds with one stone with this fic!
> 
> Hopefully you like it~ Leave me comments below to tell me what you think!


	2. Ants are Pocket Sized

_”Sunday, April 6, 2155. Age 7.”_

The sun is high and bright. Bin races down the street, passing the nearly identical homes. Somewhere behind and to his left a dog is barking. He doesn’t bother himself with the barking dog. Someone is waiting for him. Someone important.

Bin turns suddenly, hopping over part of the mowed lawn to get on the path up to the house faster. He skids to a stop right before the two steps, leaping over the stairs and onto the porch. With his heart pounding in his chest from his run, Bin knocks wildly on the door.

“Myungjun!” he yells. “Myungjun, open up!”

The door swings open and Bin bursts into the house. “Hi, Mrs. Kim!” he greets the woman, darting to the stairs. The woman laughs behind him, not bothering to scold him or ask him to slow down. Bin is already halfway up the stairs, anyway.

Bin lets himself into his friend’s room without knocking. Set on the middle of his bed is Myungjun, black hair flopped heavily over his brows. He doesn’t look up from the sketch book balanced on his lap.

“You’re here early,” Myungjun says.

Bin nods, climbing onto the bed. “Mom let me come over early since I already finished all of my school work.”

Myungjun stops his drawing, glancing at Bin. His face lights up immediately when he sees Bin. It’s a great change, really, one that Bin loves. The way Myungjun looks at him makes him feel special. If Myungjun looked at him like that for the rest of his life, Bin is certain he could accomplish anything.

“You can help me, then,” Myungjun says. He hands Bin a red colored pencil, and points at a spot on the sketch pad. “Color that in.”

Bin nods quickly, taking the pencil. He scoots until his side is pressed against Myungjun’s. Together, they bend over the sketch pad, Myungjun guiding Bin’s coloring and handing him a new color every once in a while. Bin wants to spend a lot of time with Myungjun.

* * *

Bin takes in a deep breath, opening his eyes. His skin is tingling, and his palms are warm. It works and looks just like the old game systems he used to play. Bin looks at the desk, where a still photo of Myungjun is displayed. It’s obvious that it’s from the perspective of his seven year old self. Everything around Myungjun is blurred, but the boy’s smile lights up the entire photo.

“Myungjun,” Bin mumbles. That memory had been a happy one. Why had the Cleanse taken that away from him? 

He can’t remember Myungjun at all, but there’s a new feeling in his chest. It’s dragging his heart down. Bin wipes at his eyes, Myungjun’s face flashing in his mind. Why can’t he remember Myungjun?

* * *

_”Tuesday, June 15, 2156. Age 8.”_

“I think the System is stupid.”

Bin sits up quickly, looking at Myungjun who is still lying in the bright grass. “What?”

“The System,” Myungjun says, eyes still glued to the clouds, “is stupid.” He directs his attention to Bin. “I mean, my parents were Unmatched, but they found each other anyway. Why do we need the System if people can find people for themselves?”

Bin swallows. He’s never heard these words from anybody before. Nobody has ever complained about the system before. Speaking out against the System…

“They’ll separate us,” Myungjun says. He reaches out, poking Bin’s arm. “When I turn 20, they’re going to make me forget about you. Probably about my parents, too.”

Bin frowns, confusion fluttering in his chest. “What? Why would they do that?”

Myungjun sits up, his face close to Bin’s. “Because my parents don’t like the System. I don’t like it either, but the people in charge want me to like it. They’re controlling us.”

“You—Junnie, you can’t forget about me.” Bin is finding it harder to breathe. “You can’t forget about me, please. Don’t let them.”

“You’ll forget about me too,” Myungjun says. “Eventually. Just like you forgot about Sua.”

Bin blinks. “Sua?”

“Your sister.”

* * *

Bin gasps sharply, leaning forward. It happened years ago, but the emotions associated with the memories are rushing back all too vividly. Pitched forward like this, Bin can see his reflection in the screen on the desk. His pupils are dilated, cheeks flush, and sweat drips down his face. He hadn’t felt _confusion_ back then from Myungjun’s words. It was fear. Fear about losing Myungjun, forgetting him. Fear about the words he was saying.

Bin had heard whispers about a rebellion. There were people who didn’t like the system, who claimed it was controlling. He’s certain that the issue they have is with the Cleanse, the altering of memories. Memories make a person who they are. So, who is Bin, if he doesn't remember Myungjun or even his own _sister_?

* * *

_”Saturday, June 19, 2156. Age 8.”_

Bin leans sideways, his head falling onto Myungjun’s stomach. “I’m scared.”

Myungjun’s hand settles on his shoulder. “What? Why?”

“Because of what you said. The Cleanse will really make me forget you? Junnie, I don’t want to forget you.”

“I don’t want to forget you, either, Binnie.”

Bin sniffles, wiping at his nose. “We’re supposed to stay together. Last year, you promised we would be together.”

“I know. My mom and dad told me about what really happens, though. It’s awful, but you should know, too. So we can try to defeat it.”

Bin nods, grabbing a handful of Myungjun’s shirt. It _is_ awful. Taking away someone’s memories? Bin won’t let that happen. He won’t let the System make him forget about Myungjun.

“How do we defeat it?” Bin twists around until he’s on his stomach, looking up at Myungjun.

Myungjun smiles just the slightest bit, and warmth slides back into Bin’s chest. “We fight.”

* * *

_”Saturday, December 18, 2156. Age 8.”_

“Junnie?”

“Hm?”

“I want to be Matched with you.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“But that’s how it should work!”

“We don’t get to pick who we’re Matched with.”

“Well, then I don’t want to be Matched. I want to be with you.”

“You can’t, Binnie. I might be Matched by the time you’re 20.”

“Well, don’t be. Say no.”

“I can’t say no.”

“Yes, you can. You just did.”

“Binnie—”

“I love _you_ , Junnie. I won’t love my Match.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Okay, Binnie. Now get some sleep.”

“Okay.”

* * *

Bin wipes at his nose. He’s starting to understand why the Cleanse took these memories away from him, but it feels _wrong_. Bin obviously hasn’t seen Myungjun, or he would know the name, at least. His face is displayed on the desk, that slight smile making his almost-too-large lips curl upwards at the ends.

There’s determination in his expression. Bin sets his hand on the desk, thumb brushing over the image. Every feeling he had felt all those years ago has been shoved into him again. It’s a bit overwhelming. Bin feels heavy with the weight of all the complex emotions he felt at such a young age. The weight is even heavier as Bin thinks about who Myungjun might be now. Had the System gotten to him? Stripped him of his memories? Is the Matched with someone now? Has he forgotten all about Bin, just like he said he would because of the Cleanse?

Bin swallows the thickness of the situation, takes in a deep breath. According to his eight year old self, Myungjun had promised they would be together. Bin doesn’t know Myungjun, but he wants that promise to be true. He wants Myungjun to have kept his promise.

* * *

_”Tuesday, May 9, 2158. Age 10.”_

“I love you.”

“I know.”

Bin sighs, rolling sideways in the grass to look at Myungjun. “Why don’t you ever say it back?”

Myungjun shrugs. His smile is pulling his lips wide, showing off his teeth. “Because.”

“Because _why_ , Junnie?”

Myungjun sits up, half turning to look at Bin. “Will it make you feel better if I say it?”

Bin nods, staring up at Myungjun. At this angle, the sun is right behind Myungjun’s head. He looks like he _is_ the sun, or like he has a halo.

“Okay. Then, I love you, too.”

“Do you mean it?”

“Of _course_ I mean it, Binnie. I love you, too.”

* * *

_”Wednesday, November 29, 2158. Age 10.”_

“Are you sure this okay?”

Myungjun nods, shifting on the carpet. The room is dark. It’s dark outside, too, Bin knows. Myungjun’s parents are probably fast asleep.

“I’ll say something,” Myungjun says, “and then you drink this.” He waves the bottle in the air. “Just a small sip. And then you have to try to remember what I told you.”

Bin eyes the bottle in Myungjun’s hand, then looks at Myungjun. He trusts Myungjun. Even if his parents are an Unmatched couple, he trusts Myungjun. Even if Bin gets odd looks for hanging out with him, he trusts Myungjun. Even if the words he says about the System sometimes scare Bin, he trusts Myungjun.

“It’s safe, I promise,” Myungjun says. “My parents got it from their friends. It’s the same thing they use during the Cleanse. If you want to remember all the stuff from before your Cleanse, you have to build up an immunity to this.” Myungjun waves the bottle again.

“Have you done it before?” Bin asks. He can’t help but be skeptical. This is _bad_ , after all. Doing anything against the System is _wrong_. It could get him in trouble. He could be sent away, just like Myungjun says his sister was.

Myungjun nods, smiling. “Tons of times. I started doing this training when I was twelve. I’m really good at it now.”

Bin pulls his legs up to his chest. “I wanna see you do it first.”

Myungjun laughs, and then quiets himself quickly. He glances at his bedroom door. They sit in silence for several long moments before Myungjun is satisfied with the quiet of the house.

“Okay. Tell me something ridiculous. Just a weird sentence.”

Bin thinks. A smile comes to his lips. “Ants are pocket sized.”

Myungjun snorts, pitching forward and covering his mouth to hold in his laughter. “Okay,” he wheezes. He shakes his head, wiping the smile off his face. It’s not gone entirely, though, the remnants of his smile still pulling his lips outwards. “That’s a good one.”

Bin watches in anticipation as Myungjun takes a sip from the bottle of blue liquid. He grimaces. It tastes gross, then, does it? Myungjun caps the bottle and sets it to the side. He looks at Bin, brows furrowing.

“You told me something, right?” Myungjun asks.

Bin nods. His chest is tight in anticipation.

Myungjun pushes his heavy black hair off his forehead, making his bangs stick up and out in every direction. Bin feels his cheeks grow warm. The confusion on Myungjun’s face is cute.

“You said ‘ants are pocket sized’,” Myungjun announces, the smile breaking out on his face again. “You _dummy_. Of course ants are pocket sized!”

Bin yelps as Myungjun leans at him, whacking his arm. His yell dissolves into laughter as Myungjun yanks a pillow off the bed and starts to hit him with it. Bin wiggles out of the way until he can grab a shoe in the corner of the room. He tosses it at Myungjun, who blocks himself with the pillow.

“Not fair!” Myungjun hisses, biting back his laughter. “You’re gonna wake my parents.”

“ _You’re_ gonna wake them,” Bin counters.

In the moment of silence that follows, there’s the sound of a door opening. Bin freezes, staring at Myungjun, his entire body tight with tension.

Myungjun dives into his bed, and Bin follows him. The blankets get caught around their legs as they try to yank them over their head. In the quiet darkness that follows, Bin is only aware of the almost painful slamming of his heart against his ribs and Myungjun, whose face is only inches away from his own.

* * *

Bin ducks his head, disoriented. Experiencing emotion second-hand instead of in the moment leaves a weird feeling in his chest. He smiles at the dark, blurry photo of Myungjun on his desk, a rush of admiration surging inside of him. 

As a kid, he really looked up to Myungjun. It’s not hard to understand why. They were close, closer than Bin can remember being with anybody else. He seems closer to Myungjun than he even is with Chanwoo, the person who has been his best friend for the last year and a half. There’s something underlining his thoughts about Myungjun, though. He can feel threads of doubt and dread weighing his heart down. If building up an immunity to whatever drug the System uses during the Cleanse had worked, then why hadn’t Myungjun sought out Bin? Had Bin started to build up an immunity using the method Myungjun’s parents had given to him? There’s too many loose ends, too many questions.

Bin swallows his confusion and closes his eyes again.

* * *

_”Saturday, February 3, 2159. Age 11.”_

Bin squeezes Myungjun’s hand, shifting how their fingers are locked together. He’s never been out of the district before, but now he’s going with Myungjun. The train is much smoother than the bus, carrying them quickly beyond the walls through a dark tunnel. If it weren’t for the lights in their cabin, it would be pitch black.

“We’re only picking something up for my parents,” Myungjun says. “Seriously, you don’t have to be so worried.”

“But it’s for—well, you know. Aren’t you scared we’ll get caught?”

Myungjun shakes his head. “Nope. Because we won’t get caught. This is my third time coming out here this year already. We walk into the building, and I’ll do the talking. You said you wanted to come because you want to help. Do you really want to help?”

Bin nods immediately. “Yes. I want to help.”

“Then you can’t be so shaky.” Myungjun pats Bin’s head lightly. “It’s okay, Binnie. Just remember why we have to fight.”

Bin nods again. “Okay.”

* * *

Bin understands. Even in his slightly disoriented state, he gets it. Myungjun was, possibly _is_ , part of the rebellion against the System, and Bin was helping him. Helping the rebellion. 

Bin looks at the Myungjun displayed on his desk. Probably three, four years older than he is, Myungjun is confident. He knows what needs to be done, and Bin followed right in his footsteps. Part of him wonders if Myungjun did that on purpose, but the logical part of him knows that wasn’t he case. Bin knew Myungjun long before he got involved with the rebellion. Myungjun cared about him, maybe even still does if he managed to remember Bin through the Cleanse.

Bin understands now why the Cleanse took away these memories of Myungjun.

But he won’t let it happen again.

* * *

_”Saturday, July 17, 2162. Age 14.”_

“My dad wants me to go to America with him.”

Bin turns around in his chair, staring at Myungjun in the kitchen. It’s midday, so both Myungjun’s parents are at work, but those words make Bin wish his parents were home so they can avoid this conversation.

“America?” Bin asks. “I thought they closed their borders to prevent the rebellion from getting stronger?”

“They did.” Myungjun walks over, peeled orange in hand.

Bin keeps his eyes on Myungjun. He’s acting like this isn’t a big deal.

“But?”

Myungjun swallows the orange piece he’d been chewing. “But they found a way in. Canada’s borders are open ever since their government fell, and the rebellion has been tunneling into America. There are a few ways to get in now. Dad wants me to go and help the rebellion over there.”

“You can’t go. Really, you can’t go. It’s too dangerous over there.”

“Being part of the rebellion is dangerous at all,” Myungjun says. “It’s dangerous for you to to even know me, let alone be friends with me.”

Bin’s mouth is dry. He licks his lips, shaking his head. “It’s not dangerous. You don’t even do much.”

“No, but my parents do.”

His head is spinning. _America._ Canada has already been taken over, the System flushed out and replaced with a proper government that allows more freedom. Myungjun had told Bin stories about the same thing happening in Brazil, the U.K., and Australia. The System’s major countries have slowly been falling for the last decade, and things in South Korea have gotten even stricter than they had been before.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Myungjun says.

Bin scoffs. “Don’t worry? Are you serious?”

“I’ll be safe, really.”

“Liar.”

Myungjun can’t even look at him.

“You can’t go, Myungjun. You’ll die over there. You’ll die if they find out you’re with the rebellion. You’ll die if they find out you’re not from there. You’ll die if the rebellion gets weaker.” Bin swallows. “What happens if everything goes right? They won’t let you back in here.”

“Bin, I have to go.”

“No.”

Myungjun looks up at him. “I already told my dad I would.”

Bin feels sick. He wants to gag. His lunch is ready to come back up. “Don’t leave me.”

Myungjun opens his mouth, and then he shuts it. “Bin, I—”

“Don’t leave me, Junnie, please.”

Myungjun smiles, looking at the orange in his hands. “You haven’t called me that in years.”

“You promised we would be together.”

“You can’t expect me to keep promises from that long ago.”

* * *

_”Sunday, March 4, 2164. Age 16.”_

“I didn’t think you’d show up.”

Bin holds up the piece of paper. “I was surprised you wanted to see me.”

Myungjun looks older, tired. Bin hasn’t seen much of him in the last two years. His best friend had pretty much fallen off the face of the planet. He hadn’t ended up going to America with his dad, because they didn’t need them anymore. America had fallen to the rebellion. The System was gone. Instead, Myungjun had gone even harder into working with the rebellion domestically. They hadn’t made much progress.

Bin sits down heavily in the grass, his head still high enough to be at Myungjun’s thighs. He smirks, glancing up. “How does it feel to be tall for once?”

Myungjun scoffs, sinking into the grass, too. “Shut up. I used to be taller than you.”  
“Yeah, emphasis on _used to_.”

Bin looks at the paper in his hand, smiling just the slightest bit. _Ants are pocket sized._ It’s a stupid, _stupid_ phrase he had made up all those years ago. How many years ago was it now? Five? Six? Bin lost count. It didn’t matter how many years had gone by, because a new year just meant more time spent with Myungjun.

“Are you scared?” Bin asks, not looking at Myungjun. “For tomorrow, I mean. For your Cleanse.”

Myungjun hums. “Not really. I’m mostly only scared that all my training will go to waste. It shouldn’t, though. They haven’t caught onto us yet. They haven’t changed the Cleanse.”  
Bin nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. “That’s good, then.”

The silence between them is awkward. In this situation two years ago, Bin would’ve known exactly what to say. He would’ve been able to fill the silence. Or the silence would’ve stayed, and it would be normal. It isn’t normal, now.

“Binnie?”

Bin looks at Myungjun, and immediately the tension bleeds out of his body. He scoots into Myungjun’s side, wrapping both arms around the older boy. Myungjun sniffles, holding onto him. There’ll be stains on Bin’s shirt from Myungjun’s tears, but Bin doesn’t care. This is how things were always supposed to be: Myungjun wrapped up in his arms, close to his chest.

“I won’t forget you,” Myungjun says quietly, fingers digging into Bin’s back. “If I forget everything else, I won’t forget you. I promise.”

* * *

_”Saturday, March 9, 2165. Age 17.”_

Bin kicks a loose rock down the street, watching it skitter across the pavement. It’s chilly out, but he has his jacket. The neighborhood is quiet in the middle of the day like this. All the adults are at work, and all the kids are at Saturday academies. Bin hasn’t been to an academy since he was 15, just like all of the other people his age. Unfortunately, he also doesn’t have any friends his age that are free. It’s turning into quite a boring day.

“You’ve gotten taller.”

Bin’s breath hitches, catching in his throat. Myungjun’s nose is red from the cold, a scarf secure around his neck. The breeze has blown Myungjun’s hair in every direction. All Bin wants to do is hug Myungjun, pull him into his chest, and smooth his hair. He can’t do that, though. Not here, out in the open.

“It’s been a year,” Bin says, “of course I’ve gotten taller.”

Myungjun chokes out a laugh, but the tears rimming his eyes tell Bin how he’s really feeling. “Yeah, it’s been a while.”

“Do you want to go back to the house?”

Myungjun hesitates before smiling that wide smile that Bin loves so much. He’s missed seeing that smile. It’s only been a year, but it feels like so much longer. Every day Bin waited for Myungjun, wondering if he would reach out to him after his Cleanse. After a while, Bin had lost hope. Now, with Myungjun within arms reach, he still has to resist grabbing Myungjun and never letting go.

As soon as his front door is closed, though, Myungjun’s arms are around his neck. Bin wraps his arms around Myungjun’s waist, and the older boy lets out a harsh sob.

“I promised, didn’t I?” Myungjun says through his heavy breaths. “I promised I wouldn’t forget about you. I wanted to come sooner, but they were on to me. I shouldn’t even be here _now_. I left my PC back at my place and rode around on the buses for half an hour before heading over here.” His voice is shaking along with his whole body.

Bin rubs Myungjun’s back. “Hey, don’t cry. Your eyes get all red and gross when you cry.”

Myungjun laughs shortly, pulling back to wipe his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He sniffles. “I just really missed you.”

Bin smiles, smoothing Myungjun’s hair made wild by the wind. “I missed you, too. Every day, I missed you.”

Myungjun rolls his eyes. “You’ve turned into a romantic.”

“How can I not be a romantic, when I love someone like you?”

Myungjun ducks his head, pink dusting his cheeks. “You don’t mean that.”

“Of course I do. You’re cute, and creative, and brave. You’re—”

“Bin, it’s dangerous to love me.”

Bin swallows, the sound echoing in his head. “I don’t care.”

“You could get hurt.”

“I don’t care.”

“ _I_ could get hurt.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

Myungjun wipes at his eyes again. “You’re so stupid.”

Bin shrugs. “I know.”

Myungjun laughs, hitting Bin’s chest lightly. “Why are you so stupid?”

“Maybe loving you makes me stupid.”

Myungjun shakes his head, winding his arms around Bin’s waist. “If you loving me makes you stupid, then I’m stupid for loving you, too.”

* * *

Bin opens his eyes, taking a deep breath. The whirlwind of emotions has simply left him dizzy. He folds his arms on the desk, setting his head on them. Myungjun had been around, and then he’d almost left, and then he’d come back, disappeared again. Bin sniffles from the feeling of old loss, though it quickly shifts to anger and then to joy. He groans, shoving his face against his arms to muffle the sound.

“Myungjun,” Bin gasps, sitting up suddenly. Myungjun had remembered him, but now Bin is going to forget all of this again. Bin is fairly certain he’d gone through with the same method of training Myungjun had, making himself immune to the drink they provide during the Cleanse. What had happened?

Bin leans forward on his arms, closing his eyes again.

* * *

_”Monday, January 25, 2168. Age 19.”_

Bin pushes past Myungjun into the small apartment. He slams the paper down on the table. “Have you seen this?”

Myungjun hurriedly closes the door. “What are you doing here? Did someone see you?”

Bin rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I even kept my PC on me. Who do you think I am, Jun? I thought after two years you would trust me.” He picks up the paper, waving it. “Do you know about this?”

Myungjun crosses the room, taking the paper out of Bin’s hands. His eyes scan over the coded message, piecing together the real meaning. Bin can _see_ the meaning being put together in Myungjun’s head as if there were puzzle pieces laid out before them. As his eyes reach the end of the paper, Myungjun shakes his head.

“No,” he whispers. “No, Bin, I’m so sorry.”

Bin kicks the chair. “Shit!” He walks quickly to the other end of the small apartment, taking a deep breath. “There’s no way around it?”

“Bin, I—No, I don’t—”

“Yes or no, Myungjun.” Bin whirls around. “They changed it. All that time I spent working up an immunity to that—that _drug_ , whatever it is, it’s all gone. Can I still get through the Cleanse?”

Myungjun opens and closes his mouth. “Bin, I’m so sorry.”

“Fuck.” Bin sinks down on the couch, holding his head in his hands. “That’s it? Just—All of that _time_ I spent, they can’t _do_ something?” Bin shakes his head, staring at the wall across from him. “I’ve risked my ass the last two years, traveling outside the walls, ditching class to pass notes or break into some building to get sometimes _nothing_ , and _this_ is what they send me?”

“Bin—”

“‘We’re _terminating_ your affiliation’,” Bin says. He’s read that encoded note so many times that he has it memorized. “‘There’s been an alteration to the System’s Cleanse operation, and with such short notice, we have no way of—” Bin swallows, pushing his hair off his forehead. “Two years, Jun. Two _fucking_ years and they can’t even trigger some sort of set back like they’ve done for other people to give me even a sliver of a chance.”

His words ring in the air. It’s late, and people are probably sleeping, but Bin doesn’t really care. Let the System find him. Let the System dismantle the whole rebellion. Why should he care if they’re just going to throw him to the curb to waste away as some robot of the System?

Myungjun sits down on the couch beside him, and Bin immediately leans into him. His head rests on Myungjun’s shoulder, Myungjun’s arm around his back. Tomorrow, he won’t remember any of this.

“You know, it’s going to take away all of these memories,” Bin says. “I won’t remember you, or Sua, or Minhyuk, or your parents. I won’t remember anybody. I won’t remember _anything_.”

Myungjun kisses the top of his head lightly. “It’s okay.”

Bin shakes his head. “It’s not okay. None of this is _okay_. It’s so screwed up. They’re toying with us. We’re just—they treat us like we’re some objects in a game, and we’re _not_. We’re people. They can’t just—”

Myungjun moves, cutting off Bin’s words. He cups Bin’s jaw lightly, pressing their lips together. Bin almost gasps from the shock, but his eyes close and he holds onto Myungjun. The kiss only lasts a moment.

“You’ll remember me,” Myungjun says, holding Bin’s face in both his hands. “You just will. You handled training better than anybody I’ve ever seen. You’ve always been so dedicated, so _strong_ in your work for the rebellion. I just—” Myungjun kisses Bin’s forehead. “You _will_ remember.”

Bin slides his hands on top of Myungjun’s. “But what if I don’t?”

“That’s not an option.” Myungjun moves, sitting on Bin’s lap with a leg on either side of him. “You have to remember me, alright?”

Bin pulls Myungjun’s hands away from his face, holding them between their chests. “What if I don’t?”

Myungjun doesn’t say anything for a while. Bin searches his face, trying to find some crack in his facade, some sort of doubt or worry. He’s never understood how Myungjun can be so sure of the future. The uncertainty has always scared Bin, but Myungjun has never even considered uncertainty as an option.

“Then,” Myungjun says, “I’ll just have to make you love me again.”

* * *

_”Tuesday, January 26, 2168. Age 20.”_

Bin rolls over, pressing his face into Myungjun’s shoulder. His body is warm, just like the rest of the bed. Bin cracks his eyes open, squinting at the light pouring in through the window. Myungjun’s hair is sticking out in every direction and his lips are slightly pursed in sleep. He smirks, poking Myungjun’s bottom lip lightly. Myungjun smacks his lips lightly, his nose scrunching up as he rolls his head away from Bin’s intruding finger.

Bin withholds his laugh, sitting up. He has to retrieve his clothes from around the room and he can’t help the blush spreading over his face. As he pulls his shirt back on, Bin goes to the sectioned off part of the room where Myungjun’s bed is. He leans his shoulder against the half wall. Since he got up, Myungjun has decided to hog all of the blankets, wrapping them around his whole body. They’re tucked up around his head, but his toes poke out from the bottom of the sheets. Bin rolls his eyes and crosses to the bed. As soon as he tugs the blankets down to cover Myungjun’s toes, Myungjun yanks them back up.

“Jun,” Bin says through his laughter, “your toes are uncovered.”

Myungjun says something through his groan. Bin shakes his head, sitting on the edge of the bed. He tugs the blankets back to reveal Myungjun’s face. “I gotta go soon,” Bin says. “Before everybody else starts waking up.”

Myungjun’s cute pout turns into a frown, and his eyes open up slightly. “You aren’t gonna even say mornin’?”

Bin smiles, just the corners of his lips tilting upwards. He bends over, kissing Myungjun’s nose. “Morning, sunshine.”

Myungjun’s frown softens immediately, a smile quickly replacing the sour expression. He works his arms out from under the blankets and sits up. Bin takes in every detail, from the lines on Myungjun’s cheek to the way his hair has parted oddly, chunks sticking out in different directions. Myungjun is beautiful like this, too, even though he’s a mess. Or maybe because he’s a mess? Bin doesn’t mind seeing the deep red spots on Myungjun’s neck, either.

“Sleep well?” Bin asks, reaching out to try and flatten Myungjun’s hair. His hair resists, just as it always has, continuing to poke out into the air.

Myungjun nods, eyes still mostly closed. He leans over, arms wrapping around Bin’s torso. “Don’t go,” he mumbles. “Stay. We can run, tonight.”

Bin swallows. “It’s okay, Jun. Like you said, you can just make me fall in love with you all over again.” He trails his fingers up Myungjun’s arm. “It wouldn’t be that hard, anyway.”

Myungjun snorts, pressing his face into Bin’s neck. Bin doesn’t complain, letting Myungjun hold onto him as he wakes up. Eventually, Myungjun separates himself from Bin, mostly. He keeps hold of Bin’s wrist, staring at his open hand.

“Hang on,” Myungjun mumbles. “I… I’ve got somethin’.”

Bin watches in amusement as Myungjun stumbles out of the bed, finding his discarded clothes along the way to wherever he’s retrieving the item from. It takes several minutes and a lot of noise from Myungjun’s rummaging around before he returns. He folds his legs under his body when he sits on the bed, hair still sticking up everywhere. Bin reaches to flatten his hair again, but Myungjun catches him by his wrist.

“This.” Myungjun holds up a tool. “This is what I went to get.”

Bin raises a brow. “What is it?”

Myungjun sets the tool on his lap. “I have one, too.” 

He presses on the fleshy part of his hand between his thumb and his index finger, holding the area for several long seconds. He taps the area several times in a pattern that Bin can’t quite keep track of. A quiet woman’s voice says, “Block 21. O. T. W. 427.”

Bin leans back on the bed. “A chip?”

Myungjun nods. “The rebellion started using them last year. They have a miniature fingerprint scanner, so only you can make the recording play. You hold down for three seconds, and then use your tap code.”

“Okay,” Bin says. “Why do I need to know that?”

“For when you remember.” Myungjun picks up the tool on his lap and takes hold of Bin’s wrist at the same time.

Bin holds still as Myungjun presses the tool into his skin. He gasps when the small chip embeds itself in his hand. Myungjun uses the end of his shirt to wipe away the tiny dot of blood.

“Now, hold it,” Myungjun says. “It needs to get your fingerprint.”

Bin nods, doing as Myungjun says.

“Okay, now make a tap code.”

“Just tap whatever I want?”

Myungjun nods.

Bin thinks for a moment. He taps the area twice, letting his finger rest, then once quickly, and three more long taps. 

Myungjun covers his mouth when he laughs. “You’re so stupid.”

Bin shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Hold your finger on it again,” Myungjun says. “You have to do that when you want to record something.”

Bin complies, and after a few seconds, Myungjun picks up his hands and moves his thumb out of the way. The glint in his eyes is ridiculous, and Bin wonders just what stupid thing Myungjun is going to say.

“Ants are pocket sized,” Myungjun says, and then he kisses Bin’s knuckles lightly.

Bin rolls his eyes, dropping his hand to his lap again. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”

Myungjun hums, tapping his lips. “Nope!”

Bin pulls Myungjun into his chest, wrapping both arms completely around him. Myungjun leans into him, too, resting in Bin’s hold. In the silence that follows, Bin commits every part of Myungjun to memory. How his hair smells faintly like green tea, and how his body feels pressed into Bin’s chest. He memorizes the curve of Myungjun’s shoulders under his hands, and the ridges in Myungjun’s fingers. He doesn’t want to forget a single thing about Myungjun.

“You need to go,” Myungjun says, finally breaking the silence. “If someone catches you here, this early in the morning—”

“I know,” Bin says. “I’ll go. Just… Not yet.”

Myungjun nods, and Bin cups his cheeks. He takes in every detail of Myungjun’s face, the curve of his nose and the fullness of his cheeks. He takes in the roundness of Myungjun’s eyes and the dip in his upper lip.

“I won’t forget you,” Bin says.

Myungjun smiles, leaning in to kiss Bin lightly on the lips. “It’s okay if you do.”

* * *

Bin picks up his head from his arms, letting out a shaky breath. He wipes his eyes hard, clearing out the gathered tears. A knot has formed in his throat, but it’s nothing compared to the weight in his stomach. Bin looks at his hand from every angle he can. He balls his hand into a fist and stretches his fingers in every way he can think.

Both of his hands are shaking when he presses his thumb against the fleshy part of his hand. He holds it for several seconds before tapping on his skin.

“Ants are pocket sized,” Myungjun’s voice says, quiet, quickly followed by the sound of a kiss.  
Bin gasps. “Myungjun,” he breathes. “Myungjun, oh m—”

Bin pulls off the sticky square stuck to his temple, and his screen flashes black momentarily. He ignores the dialogue box that pops up. His legs shake when he stands up. Bin squeezes his eyes shut, pressing the heels of his hands into them. He has to get out of here. He has to find Myungjun, and they have to get out of here. This isn’t right. They aren’t supposed to live like this.  
Bin steps into the hall after shoving his PC into his pocket. He keeps his steps even, his shoulders back. He nods politely at the people he passes. All of his training with the rebellion has come back to him, helping him blend in with any other person. However, the adrenaline in his veins is begging him to run. He chews on the inside of his bottom lip. The door is in sight. He swallows, bowing at the woman that enters as he exits.

Even once outside of the Hub, Bin keeps it together. The field is open and wide, letting anybody and everybody see him. He heads to the bus stop, playing casual. The bus takes him three blocks away, where he disembarks. The streets lead him around corners and he ducks through several alleys. Bin boards another bus, this one taking him to the furthest blocks. Nobody else gets off the bus when he does.

That’s when Bin starts to run.


	3. Dismantled

Bin knocks quickly on the door, but quietly as well. _Please be home_ , he thinks. _Please, please be home._

The door swings open, but just barely. Bin can’t help the sob that escapes him when he sees a pair of large eyes staring back at him. “Myungjun,” he breathes.

He’s yanked inside the small apartment. The door shuts with a louder-than-necessary bang, but he doesn’t care. He isn’t sure whose arms reach for who first. It doesn’t matter anyway. Bin would’ve been scared to hold Myungjun this tightly if it weren’t for the many times he can recall Myungjun saying ‘you won’t break me.’

“Binnie, you—”

Bin catches Myungjun’s lips with his own. Myungjun gasps as soon as his lips touch Bin’s, and Bin takes the opportunity to press his tongue against Myungjun’s. The shorter man’s hands push into his hair. Bin holds Myungjun with both hands on his back, pressing their bodies together. Bin knows he needs to talk to Myungjun, explain, tell him _everything_ that’s happened, but none of that matters at the moment. All that matters is that Myungjun is in his arms again, pressed into his chest, warm hands against Bin’s skin.

Myungjun pulls away first, but Bin simply wraps his arms around his body to keep him close. “Bin,” Myungjun says, his voice barely a whisper. “Bin, oh my god.”

Bin nods, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “I tried. I really tried, Myungjun.” He smooths Myungjun’s hair gently.

“How did you—Bin, what _happened_?”

Bin shakes his head, burying his face in Myungjun’s neck. Myungjun rubs his back gently, hand trailing up and down his spine. Bin is glad Myungjun understands. He just needs to hold Myungjun for a while.

“I’m sorry,” Bin says after the silence has stretched on for several minutes. “I couldn’t—I went to my Cleanse, and they took it all. Everything. Every last memory of you, just _gone_.”

Myungjun cups his cheek, nodding. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Bin squeezes his eyes shut. Myungjun’s hand against his cheek feels so natural, like it was meant specifically to be pressed against his skin.

“You’re okay,” Myungjun repeats. He wraps both arms around Bin’s waist, pressing his face into Bin’s chest. “You’re okay.”

Bin shakes his head but tightens his arms around Myungjun. “I’m not okay. None of this is okay.”

Myungjun lets out a short laugh. “You still say the same stupid stuff.”

Bin huffs, holding Myungjun at arm’s length. “You still think it’s stupid? Jun, they took away—”

“I know.”

“We can’t just let them—”

“Bin, it’s over.”

Bin’s brows furrow. “What?”

“The rebellion, it’s over. They got to us last year. Most of us managed to stay hidden, keep ourselves off the radar and out of the government’s hit box.”

Bin shakes his head. “No. That’s not right. That can’t be right, now _now_.”

“I’m sorry, Bin. There’s nothing left.”

Bin looks around the small apartment. It looks just like it did on the morning of his 20th birthday, minus the mess they had made the night before. He swallows, shaking his head. “No,” he breathes, pushing a hand through his hair. “I have to get out of here.”

“You can’t. Bin, what’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“Match Day.”

Myungjun is quiet for a moment, and then, softly, he says, “What?”

“Today is my Match Day. The ceremony’s in four hours.”

Myungjun takes several steps back until he can lean against the table in the middle of the room. Bin stares at the couch in the far corner. Tonight, after his Match Ceremony, Bin will get sent out of this district and to a district where only Matched couples live. Traveling back to where Unmatched people live is forbidden in the first five years after being Matched. Bin sinks to the floor, holding his head in his hands.

The silence in the room is deafening. Bin isn’t even sure if he’d hear a pin drop. Everything seems like it’s been sucked into a vacuum and shot far off outside the walls where he could never reach it. Even with the weight in his chest, though, Bin thinks. There _has_ to be a way beyond the walls. Security is probably increased, and they probably found most of the tunnels to the north. Bin shakes his head, rubbing his forehead. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. None of this was supposed to happen. He was supposed to have a chance. He was supposed to be with Myungjun, permanently.

“I won’t go,” Bin says, breaking the silence. “I’m not going to my Match Ceremony.”

“Bin, you have to—”

“No.” Bin looks up at Myungjun. “I’m not going. They can’t make me. I don’t _want_ this. I don’t want whoever the System decided was a good Match for me. None of that _matters_ , not when you’re around.”

Myungjun smiles, but his eyes reveal the sadness hidden behind the joy. “I wish it were that simple.”

Bin stands up, walking from one end of the room to the other. “There has to be _something_ , Myungjun! Think! I am _not_ letting them take my memories away again, and I’m not going to that Match Ceremony. I’m not going to stay here. I can’t.”

“You’re talking like a madman.”

“Maybe I am a madman.”

“I’ve tried everything, Bin. I’ve reached out to everybody I can to see if there’s some way past the walls, and there isn’t. There’s nothing.”

“We’ll climb the wall.”

Myungjun scoffs. “You can’t do that.”

“I can, and I will.” Bin goes to Myungjun, kneeling in front of him. “I would rather die than let the System set me up for the rest of my life. I have my own wants and needs, and I have a mind of my own. They shouldn’t be allowed to control me like this.”

“Binnie…”

Bin swallows as Myungjun’s hands slide over his own. “I want to help you,” Myungjun says softly. “I do, really, but I just—” Myungjun’s expression changes, the doubt and worry replaced with something fierce. “Your PC, give it to me.”

Bin wiggles the disk out of his pocket, handing it over. Myungjun flips it upside down on his lap, praying at the edges with his nails.

“What are you—”

“There’s a pair of scissors in the drawer, I need them.”

Bin gets up, going immediately to where Myungjun said. He hands the scissors over to Myungjun, who flips them open and digs the sharp end into the edge of Bin’s PC. There’s a crack and the backing pops off.

“There was someone who used their PC as a distraction,” Myungjun says, setting the disk on the table. “If I can remember how he did it—”

“You’re talking about Jinwoo,” Bin says. “He rigged his PC to catch fire, drew attention to his apartment while he snuck to the tunnels.”

Myungjun nods. “Exactly. I was thinking, if I can do the same thing to yours _and_ mine, and we set them at different places—”

“God, I love you.” Bin cups Myungjun’s jaw, tilting his head up so he can kiss him.

Myungjun smiles. “I—” The smile falls off his face. “I don’t remember _how_ he did it.”

Bin sits in the second chair at the table, removing the back to his PC. It’s almost entirely flat, with only a thin opening in the middle. Bin groans, his head falling forward momentarily. “We need Jinwoo.”

“Yeah, well, Jinwoo’s in America, now. He can’t exactly come back in four hours.”

Bin chews on his bottom lip. “Screw it,” he mutters, getting up from the table. “We’re doing it now. I can’t go to that ceremony.”

“Wait,” Myungjun says quickly. “We can’t go in the day. Someone will see us.”

“I need to ditch this thing, then,” Bin says. “Ever since that update last month, it has a GPS. You _know_ they’ll use it to track us.”

Myungjun nods. “You’re right, but you need to go to the Ceremony tonight.” He grabs the PC, pressing the back onto it again. It pops back into place seamlessly. “Go back to the Hub, to your compartment. Finish the commands. You got to review your Cleanse memories, right? That’s why you’re here now?”

Bin nods. “Yeah, there was a pop up saying to call for someone to come back, but—”

“Just bang a fist on the desk,” Myungjun says, standing up. He hands Bin back his PC. “They’re sensitive, and the screen will malfunction. Use that as an excuse to why you left. You went through the Cleanse, you thought it was over, so you left. You came back because your PC didn’t have any other instructions for the day. It’ll work, I promise.”

Bin sighs, pocketing the PC. “You”—he runs his hands up Myungjun’s arms—”are an amazing genius, and that’s why I love you.”

Myungjun smiles, his arms wrapping around Bin’s waist once again. Bin holds Myungjun against his chest, nose buried in Myungjun’s hair. He still smells like green tea.

“Go,” Myungjun whispers, separating himself from Bin. “I’ll still be here. Leave your PC wherever you go tonight after your Ceremony, and meet me at the entrance south of the river.”

Bin nods, swallowing. “Okay. I will, I promise. I love you.”

Myungjun smiles, squeezing Bin’s hand. “I love you, too.”

* * *

 

Bin straightens his deep blue jacket for the hundredth time. It’s a nervous twitch, straightening his clothes. Thankfully to everybody else, it just looks like he’s nervous for his Match Ceremony. He sits in rows with all the others that are part of today’s Match Ceremony. The screen set up in the front of the room is the same pale blue Bin has always seen everywhere, with “congratulations on your Match Day” appearing across the blue in a white, curly font.

As a man steps up to beside the screen, Bin’s palms begin to sweat. He wipes his hands on his pants, the same color as his jacket. The girl beside him shifts in her seat.

“Welcome,” the man beside the screen begins, “to your Match Day.”

There’s a soft roar of applause from those seated, and those who stand behind them. The man holds up his hand to signal an end to the clapping. 

“First,” he says. Nobody dares to move in the silence. “Kim Sangil.”

Bin watches a young man from the row in front of him stand. His suit is just like Bin’s, deep blue and pressed until there are solid creases in his pants. The back part of his shirt is untucked, and Bin can only see the back part of his shirt because his jacket has scrunched up on his back.

The screen in the front of the room flashes black before a woman’s face appears, the name Choi Minji written above. The clapping returns as the woman stands, turns to face Sangil, and bows. Bin swears he hears someone behind him choke back a sob. Sure, it’s a wonderful thing, knowing who you’re going to spend the rest of your life with, but not like _this_.

Bin hardly pays attention to the ceremony. Names are continuously called, people stand, bow, sit back down. It’s a loop, really, and Bin loses count of how many people stand up.

It isn’t until the word _fault_ appears on the screen in large, bold, yellow letters that Bin pays attention. The young man who is left standing as people whisper seems taller than average, and he’s handsome. Faults are rare, but they do happen. The System sometimes misses some crucial information, only recognizing a true Match until it’s too late. Bin wonders if the fault is the handsome man’s or his Match’s. 

When Bin’s name is called, he hardly realizes at first. The man in the front of the room looks at him directly, however, and Bin gets to his feet shakily. He sort of feels bad for whoever has been Matched with him. They’ll have to live alone knowing that he didn’t want them. Hopefully they won’t take it personally. Bin is sure they’re a great person, after all.

_Glitch._

The white word casts a glow over the whole room, highlights standing out in people’s hair and the light reflecting almost blindingly off of jewels some people wear. The whispering in the room is harsh, yet subtle. Bin swallows the thickness in his throat. To most people, it’s unclear what makes a person a Glitch. It could be a relationship from before the Cleanse. It could be a hereditary sickness (though there are few of those anymore). Bin already knows why he’s been marked as a Glitch. Despite his status as a Glitch being announced, however, he still waits for his Match’s face to be displayed on the screen.

The name appears before his face. _Lee Dongmin._ The whispers rise again, scratching against Bin’s ears. A face flickers onto the screen, displaying the young man who had been branded as a fault earlier in the night. Bin’s eyes find the young man in the crowd. However, he isn’t standing. Instead, he has shrunk down in his seat, eyes glued to the chair in front of him. As Bin sinks into his seat, the whispers dissipate and the ceremony continues.

Once every name has been called or flashed on the screen, the mood of the room changes. People go to their Matches, greeting them for the first time. Some of the younger Matches introduce each other to their parents. Bin catches one boy kissing another on the forehead, and it makes a light feeling expand in his chest.

Someone taps Bin’s shoulder. The woman is wearing all white and her hair is tied to a tight knot on top of her head. “Please,” she says, “follow me.”

Bin follows. As they cut through the crowd, eyes glance at him and then cut away once he catches each person. In their situation, if he didn’t know what he does, he might act the same way.

Lee Dongmin, Bin’s supposed faulty Match, is already seated in the pristine room when the woman opens the door for him. Dongmin rises from his seat, bowing politely. Bin returns the gesture, taking the seat beside Dongmin, across from the man who had announced each of their names.

“As you’re aware,” he begins, “faults are rare, but crucial to improving the System. Faults simply mean that the System has found a secondary Match that may be better suited for you overall, but there may be minor issues in your Match as well. We normally allow initial Matches to discuss the issue amongst themselves, to decide if they want to review their Match and instead choose to go with their secondary Match. Dongmin, since it is on your part that the fault exists, you can take some time to think it over, if you—”

“I want to be Matched with the other person,” Dongmin says quickly. He swallows loudly, looking at Bin. “Sorry. You’re probably a great person.”

 _But you’re marked as a Glitch._ Dongmin doesn’t have to say the second part for Bin to know what he’s thinking.

“Okay,” Bin says, nodding. “That’s fine.”

The man behind the desk nods. “Very well. Dongmin, please come to the Hub first thing tomorrow morning. Now, if that’s it, feel free to enjoy the festivities.”

The woman leads both of them back out into the main room. Dongmin immediately disappears into the crowd. Bin stays closer to the walls, ignoring most of the people who openly stare at him. _Glitch._ It’s because of his involvement with Myungjun, with the rebellion, that Bin will now forever be marked as a Glitch. Now that his status is public, it’ll take longer for him to be Matched, too. That doesn’t matter, though. Nothing about the System will matter after tonight.

The “festivities,” as the man had put it, are still going strong when Bin decides to bail. Though there isn’t a curfew, the streets are relatively empty. The buses also stopped running hours ago, so Bin is left to walk the entire way back to his small apartment. He resists the urge to head towards Myungjun, towards the most significant person in his entire life. It won’t be long before he can be happily with Myungjun, beyond the walls, outside of here, away from the System as it runs here. Getting beyond the walls is the first part. Bin isn’t entirely sure how they’ll survive after that, but it doesn’t matter. If he has Myungjun, he can survive anything.


	4. Hiding in Plain Sight

If it weren’t for the moon casting a glow over the city, Bin wouldn’t be able to see where he’s going. The buildings cast dark shadows. Typically, Bin would use his PC for light, but with the plan he and Myungjun set into place, he can’t have his PC with him. In fact, he shouldn’t have _anything_ with him other than the clothes on his back, but Bin couldn’t resist bringing a pack of supplies. Food, water, an extra pair of socks, just the bare minimum. If someone stops him, he’ll tell them he’s going to visit his parents. He hasn’t seen them in a long time, so even his parents would buy it.

 

Avoiding confrontation at all is the best course of action. Bin doesn’t have much more to travel to the tunnel entrance south of the river. A long, long time ago, before the sky rails were built in the walls, people would travel underground. The government sealed off as many entrances to the underground network as possible, according to Myungjun, but some had been left alone. For example, the entrance south of the river.

 

Bin shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, nodding politely at a woman he passes. It’s late, nearly midnight, yet people are still bustling about. He’s personally found that Monday nights are particularly active. Perhaps something will go wrong somewhere, and that’ll serve as a proper distraction for their escape.

 

Every step that takes Bin closer to the entrance to the tunnels makes the ball of anxiety in his stomach grow in size. Anything could go wrong. Someone could report him. He could show up at the wrong entrance. The entrance could’ve been sealed and Myungjun’s information could’ve been wrong. In general, the situation has left Bin feeling incredibly, ridiculously exposed, but these are the steps necessary if he wants to escape the System.

 

As the entrance comes into view—just a set of rails with stairs leading downward, blocked off by cones—Bin finds himself walking faster. The streets are emptier over here, closer to the wall but not so close that nobody will be around. Just before he reaches the cones, Bin breaks into a run, sprinting down the stairs. Immediately he ducks to the side, waiting, wondering if someone is going to come chasing down the stairs to apprehend him. It wouldn’t be the first time that someone led the authorities straight to an entrance for the rebellion’s operation.

 

Minutes pass, but the tension is still live in Bin’s body. He ducks his head and jogs to the platform, dropping down onto the uneven concrete layed where metal tracks once lived. The noise echoes down the tunnel. He needs to wait for Myungjun, now. He should be here any minute.

 

However, time ticks by and Myungjun doesn’t arrive. Bin fights the panic threatening to override his sensibility. It’s fine. He’s fine. Myungjun is fine. Maybe Myungjun had to circle around because there were too many people out, too many people going home after the Match Ceremony. Maybe Myungjun got caught up talking to someone. Certainly, he’s fine. He has to be.

 

“Put your hands where I can see them.”

 

Bin scrambles to his feet, taking steps away from the filtered voice. He hadn’t noticed the flashlight bobbing in the tunnel or even heard the footsteps.

 

“No, it’s fine, he’s with me. This is Bin.”

 

Relief floods over Bin when Myungjun steps out of the shadows, illuminated by the dull glow of the flashlight.

 

“What’s going on?” Bin asks, slipping his arms around Myungjun’s shoulders when he’s close enough.

 

Myungjun hums. “They’re part of the rebellion’s army. You hadn’t showed when I thought you would, and then they found me.”

 

Bin looks over Myungjun’s head at the two others. They’re wearing heavy armor, and one of them carries a hefty looking gun. “And you trusted them? You said the rebellion got wiped out.”

 

“Not us,” one of the people says, a man. His voice is oddly familiar. “Some of us heard things were going south so we regrouped, came back from outside. There’s probably half a thousand of us down here.”

 

“Plus,” Myungjun says, “it would be hard not to trust Jinwoo.”

 

“ _Jinwoo_?” Bin looks at the man who had spoken, and Myungjun shines the flashlight on him. Sure enough, with a gun in his hands and his same bleached hair, Jinwoo has come back.

 

“Take care of the reunions later,” the woman says. “We have to get back before someone hears us out here. Noise echoes a lot further than you think.”

* * *

 

Bin plays with the edge of Myungjun’s sleeve, flipping it up then down and then up again. Myungjun doesn’t seem to mind, completely content to relax between Bin’s outstretched legs in the uneven lighting of the tunnels. It’s been two days. While Bin had initially urged Myungjun to leave, saying that they now have a sure way to escape and survive, Myungjun had persuaded him otherwise.

 

“It’ll work,” Myungjun had said. “I promise.”

 

Bin isn’t so sure. The “rebellion’s army,” as this rag-tag collection of people call themselves, is actually quite organized. They patrol the tunnels regularly, and their stockpile of food is actually quite sizeable. Bin thinks they could survive down here for months, completely undisturbed. Apparently they plan to do exactly that as they ready themselves to overthrow the System in one quick sweep, destroying everything that has been built so far. Their plan, as well planned and prepared as these people are, is likely to fail. Brute force has never been the way to overthrow the System. 

 

Myungjun leans his head back on Bin’s shoulder, sighing. Bin looks sideways at Myungjun. “What is it?”

 

Myungjun shakes his head, wrapping Bin’s arms around himself. “ I missed this.”

 

“Plotting against the government? Or are you talking about the dingy, somewhat-smelly underground tunnels?”

 

Myungjun pinches Bin’s arm, drawing a quiet gasp out of the younger. “I missed _you_. Spending time with you. I mean, it _has_ been two years since I last saw you.”

 

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore.” Bin kisses Myungjun’s temple lightly.

 

“How do you know that?” Myungjun twists, settling sideways against Bin’s chest. His old habit of using Bin as a pillow has returned. “How do you know it’s going to be okay from now on?”

 

“Because we’re together.” Bin pushes Myungjun’s bangs off his forehead gently. “Because the only thing that matters is that we’re together.”

 

“What about the System?”

 

“Screw the System,” Bin says. “I don’t care about it. If it doesn’t bother me, then I don’t care about it. If there was a way to avoid it all together, to opt out and live alone until I’m thirty so I could be with you after, that’s what I would’ve done.”

 

Myungjun sits up to look at Bin. “You don’t mean that.”

 

“I do mean it.”

 

“You don’t.” He shakes his head. “You can’t mean that, Bin. We have to focus on the bigger picture, because if we don’t, you’ll get it in your head that my life is worth more than yours and it isn’t. I don’t want you to do something stupid or get yourself hurt because of me.”

 

Bin rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I meant. I just meant that I wouldn’t be fighting this way if it weren’t for you.”

 

Myungjun stares at him for a moment, and then slaps his chest. “You’re an idiot. What are you talking about?”

 

Bin smiles, catching Myungjun’s hand. “When we were kids, you always talked about the System, the Cleanse, how bad it all is. If you hadn’t said all those things, I would’ve just taken the System at face value and accepted it all.” He ducks his head. “It probably didn’t help that I was completely in love with you even back then.”

 

Myungjun leans forward suddenly, arms wrapping around shoulders and lips pressing against lips. Bin holds onto Myungjun, gladly welcoming the affection but caught off guard by it. Myungjun has always had that effect, though.

 

When Myungjun pulls away, he’s crying. Bin’s brows pull together as he wipes at Myungjun’s cheeks. “What’s the matter? Did I say something wrong?”

 

Myungjun laughs, shaking his head. “No, you don’t say anything wrong. I just never realized that we were both doing things for each other all along.”

 

Bin cups the back of Myungjun’s neck, playing with the ends of his hair. “What do you mean?”

 

“I was only part of all of this for you,” Myungjun says. “I thought the way I did because of my parents, but they gave me a choice. They said I didn’t have to be with the rebellion. Seeing how scared you were when I talked about it, though, I just—” Myungjun shakes his head, wiping at his eyes. “I didn’t want you to be scared, so I decided to fight.”

 

Bin laughs softly, pulling Myungjun into his chest. Myungjun’s arms wrap around him, his face burying in Bin’s neck. There’s some shifting and sliding, but they stay mostly the same way for a very long time. So long, in fact, that Myungjun falls asleep against Bin’s chest. As he sleeps, snoring gently, Bin smooths his hair and lightly rubs his back. Bin, too, ends up drifting off.

* * *

 

Bin shifts his grip on the gun. He’s never liked the weight in his hands, the seriousness of the item, but he does what he has to. Myungjun does, too, walking beside him with the flashlight as they patrol the tunnels. Bin thinks it’s been about a month since they left the surface. It should be day outside right now, if the watch on his wrist is as accurate as it’s supposed to be. The last month has been a month of growth for the rebellion. Their numbers have swelled to far over the 500 they were before, though not quite a full thousand yet. Their patrols are more frequent, their monitoring more tight-scheduled. However, they’ve had more run-ins with the System as well.

 

Bin and Myungjun have patrolled down this particular tunnel three times in the last forty-five minutes. It’s been quiet. Bin doesn’t mind the quiet. It means it’s a good day on the surface. He always hopes that his parents haven’t found out that he’s gone missing. The last thing he wants to do is cause them stress, especially after what happened to Sua.

 

Myungjun grabs Bin’s arm, yanking him into one of the many indentions in the wall that the rebellion has carved out. Bin is going to ask what Myungjun is doing, when the shorter sets his hand over his mouth and flips off the flashlight. There’s shouting and laughter echoing down the hall. Light bounces off the walls from multiple sources of light, all coming from the direction they’d been walking.

 

Bin holds his breath as a group of five men walk by them. They’re dressed in the deep blue uniforms of the System officers. However, unlike the officers that Bin has seen for his entire life, these four men each carry large guns, larger than the one Bin lets hang by his side.

 

“These assholes will never know what hit ‘em!” one of the men shouts.

 

“Yeah! They probably thought they were clever, hiding out under the city.”

 

“Poor bastards never thought they had a rat in their ranks.”

 

“We’ll be done with them soon enough, anyway.”

 

Static buzzes, an unintelligible voice coming through the static. The tallest of the men unclips a radio from his belt. “You’re supposed to stay off the radio,” he says.

 

The sound of bullet shots ring through the radio amid static. “Delta reporting ambush! They knew we were coming down this way!”

 

“Shit,” the tall man mutters, then he speaks into the radio. “Beta coming to back you up. Hang in there, Delta!”

 

Bin presses deeper into the shadows of the hole in the wall as the men run back in the direction they came from. He thinks he hears shots echoing through the tunnels, but it could just be in his head. As their running steps recede, Myungjun pokes his head out into the tunnel.

 

“Clear,” he says in a low voice. “Bin, we have to get out of here.”

 

Bin nods. He steps out into the hall, training his aim in the direction of the team of men had ran to. “Go,” Bin mutters, waving Myungjun down the tunnel. “Lead the way. Keep the flashlight off if you can manage.”

 

It’s a tiresome journey back, ducking into alcoves fairly regularly as groups of people in deep blue uniforms race down the tunnels. Bin tries to listen in to their radios. There’s usually too much static for him to make much sense of the messages. When they finally make it back to camp, it’s a disorganized disaster. People rush from station to station, slinging guns around and yelling at each other. News travels fast through the tunnels. As Bin follows Myungjun to a station, teams of three are making quick work of setting up the temporary walls that are supposed to withstand a shower of bullets.

 

Nobody expected explosives.

 

The blast makes Bin’s ears ring and his vision go blurry. He yanks Myungjun towards the guns station, slinging a holster around Myungjun’s hips and another around his own. System officers are pouring in through the gap left by the wall they blew down. Bin runs after Myungjun, keeping as close to the ground as he can. People are screaming, _rebellion_ people.

 

“We have to get out of here,” Bin says, ducking at the sound of another blast. Several people run past him and Myungjun. “We can get to the maintenance access, go up to the surface.”

 

“Everybody will be making their way to the Hub,” Myungjun reminds him. “If the System attacks first, we’re supposed to go straight for the Hub.”

 

“This way.” Jinwoo grabs Bin’s arm, yanking him to his feet.

 

Bin makes sure Myungjun is with him, following closely. The System officers have blown down two of the three blockades, the third dismantled by rebellion members. Bin nearly trips as he jogs behind Jinwoo. For a moment he glances at his feet. If it weren’t for Myungjun behind him, Bin would’ve sunk to the floor at the sight of the bleeding man.

 

“It’s okay,” Myungjun says, his hand against Bin’s back as he urges him forward. “We’re going to make it out of this.”

 

The System officers haven’t gotten to the old maintenance access hatch yet, thankfully. An alarm is blaring on the surface, broadcasting from every source possible. Myungjun is one of the first people up the ladder, and Bin follows closely after. He squints at the light, holding a hand against his ear to muffle the screaming siren. More people spill out onto the surface from the ladder until finally it’s sealed again.

 

“Tight formation!” a man shouts, and they scramble to obey. 

 

Bin keeps behind Myungjun, head ducked, gun ready. The streets are empty. As they pass buildings, Bin can’t resist glancing to see if any brave souls have stuck their heads between their curtains. He spots a few people, actually, ducking back into the safety of their homes as they pass. Unlike the tunnels, overrun with System officers, there doesn’t seem to be a single officer on the surface. That fact alone is enough to make Bin’s stomach churn.

 

Despite the maintenance access hatch being half a kilometer from the Hub, they meet no resistance. If it weren’t for the empty streets and the siren, Bin would think this were a normal day on the surface. Even as they approach the Hub nobody comes out to apprehend them. The Hub is abandoned, too, workers all gone or hiding.

 

They stay away from the windows, far down the main hall. Rebellion members continue to show up in groups ranging from five to twenty-five until their ranks fill the Hub like they had filled the tunnels. Even when their numbers exceed 600, no System officers have shown themselves. Rebellion members show up with bleeding wounds and small packs of supplies. Bin helps Myungjun in the makeshift hospital they’ve made out of one of the branching hallways.

 

“You’ll be good as new in a few weeks,” Myungjun says cheerily, patting a man’s arm. Though he doesn’t smile, the man’s face brightens. Myungjun’s optimism is contagious.

 

Bin follows Myungjun from person to person as he patches people up and hands out small amounts of food. They don’t have any medicine, all of that having been left in the tunnels in their rush to leave, but food and Myungjun’s cheeriness is sure to help people at least _feel_ better. Bin has always admired Myungjun’s optimism. His bright spirit can make even the dreariest of situations seem like a sunny afternoon. Even so, there are dark clouds circling around the Hub, bringing down the mood of everybody.

 

Once Myungjun has made his rounds, he pulls Bin off to the side. “I can’t keep doing this,” he whispers, holding Bin’s hands. “Half of these people will be dead inside a week unless we have proper supplies.”

 

“We’ll figure something out,” Bin assures him. “I promise.” He cups Myungjun’s jaw with both hands, kissing his forehead gently. “I won’t let anything bad happen.”

 

Myungjun nods, wrapping both arms around Bin’s waist. The hall is alight with quiet chatter, but even that fades into the background as Bin holds onto Myungjun. He isn’t actually sure that he’ll be able to stop anything bad from happening. At the moment, their only possible outcomes are _bad_ and _worse_. With Myungjun in his arms, however, _bad_ is the only thing Bin needs to make things work.

* * *

 

Bin grunts as he shifts on the uncomfortable tile floor. The pile of clothes make for a weak bed, if it can even be called a bed. Someone somewhere is coughing, and Myungjun is still asleep. Three days they’ve been trapped in the Hub. Life outside has continued normally. Sometimes Bin watches from the window. System officers patrol the yard in regular patterns, never getting closer than twenty meters. He doesn’t have much time to just watch the officers, however, not with the worsening situation inside.

 

Myungjun reaches out for Bin, and Bin scoots across the floor until Myungjun can hold onto him. They’re quiet. For a moment, he even thinks Myungjun has fallen back asleep.

 

“They’re waiting us out,” Myungjun mumbles against Bin’s chest. “They know we’ll give in eventually. That, or we’ll starve to death in here. We’re already running out of water.”

 

“Shh,” Bin hisses, smoothing Myungjun’s hair. “It’s too early to think about that.”

 

“It’s okay, you know,” Myungjun continues. “If I die, I mean. I got to see you again after so long. If things go wrong, I just wanted you to not be sad about it.”

 

“Don’t talk like that.” Bin holds Myungjun closer against himself. “You don’t mean that.”

 

“Don’t be sad, okay?” Myungjun kisses his chest lightly. “It’ll be okay.”

* * *

 

Bin leans his head back against the wall. He’s already soaked his shirt with sweat. In the early hours of the morning, the power and water for the Hub had been shut down. With the power had gone the air conditioning. The last week has taken a toll on everybody. Their initial number of 627 has dwindled down to 608 with the lack of resources and medicine. Bin had been put on the team to move the bodies outside. Myungjun had been reassigned from medical to watch duty through the night. Now he sleeps with his head on Bin’s lap, legs tucked close to his body.

 

“Get up!” someone near the front of the Hub yells. “Up! They’re coming!”

 

As people scramble to their feet, Bin shakes Myungjun’s shoulder. He takes a moment to wake up, rubbing his eyes.

 

“What happened?”

 

“The System. Someone said the officers are coming.”

 

Myungjun stumbles to his feet. “I have to go. I’m supposed to be on watch.”

 

“Not now.”

 

Bin tugs Myungjun into the compartment they’ve claimed, slipping their only bulletproof vest over his shoulders. The noise level in the Hub has gone from nonexistent to chaotic. Bin is fairly certain he hears people crying.

 

“Bin,” Myungjun says, his voice shaking, “I’m scared.”

 

“It’ll be okay,” Bin says. “I promise, Junnie, it’ll be okay.”

 

Myungjun looks at him sharply. “You—”

 

Bin silences him by kissing him quickly on the lips. “I know.”

 

“What if—”

 

“It won’t happen.”

 

“Binnie.”

 

Bin stops his quick movements, looking at Myungjun. His eyes are wide with fear. His hair sticks up in every direction. Bin reaches up, smoothing his hair gently.

 

“What if you die?”

 

Bin shakes his head. “I won’t die, and neither will you.”

 

“I don’t want to die.”

 

“I said you won’t die, Myungjun.”

 

Myungjun nods. “Right. Everything is going to be okay.”

 

“Exactly.” Bin hands Myungjun the hand gun and swings the larger one over his shoulder. “Come on.”

 

The hall is already flooded with other people geared up. He assumes the other halls are the same, nearly every person having a gun to defend themselves. Bin leans to see through the crowd. The System officers are in heavy gear, each one of them wearing a gas mask. Bin assumes they have the entire place surrounded. As the glass shatters, not a single one of them moves forward. Bin watches the small canister fly into the room through the opening. The white gas dissipates when the canister hits the floor, and several more canisters are tossed into the area.

 

Bin realizes what they are when the gas reaches their first line of defense, and he collapses to the floor as he releases a spray of fire from his gun. Bin scrambles backwards, yanking Myungjun with him.

 

“It’s knockout gas!” someone yells, and they all scramble.

 

Myungjun slams the door shut once they’re in their small compartment. He grabs the pile of clothes they’d been sleeping on for the past week, shoving them under the crack in the door. Bin pulls him backwards.

 

“It’s no use, Myungjun.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Bin points upwards. The vent above the door taunts him, and Myungjun immediately groans. 

 

“Of course,” Myungjun mumbles. “Of course this is how it happens. This isn’t how it was supposed to happen.”

 

“It’s okay,” Bin says. “Jun, look at me.”

 

Myungjun turns, looking up at Bin. The fear is still in his eyes. Bin sits down on the floor, tugging Myungjun down with him. He holds Myungjun against his chest, rubbing his back. People outside the room are yelling. Bin blocks out the sound of gunshots. Myungjun clings to him, arms and legs wrapped around his body.

 

“I’m sorry I got you caught up in this,” Myungjun says softly. “I should’ve just kept my mouth shut all those years ago.”

 

“In that case, I’m sorry you felt like you had to protect me.” Bin smooths out Myungjun’s hair, watching wisps of gas seep under the door.

 

Myungjun kisses Bin’s jaw gently. “I love you, Binnie.”

 

Bin smiles a little, arms wrapping tighter around Myungjun’s back. “And I love you, Junnie.”

 

“I mean it, Bin. I love you. I wish I had more time to say it.”

 

“I know. Me too.”

 

The gas slides around in the room, darkening the edges of Bin’s vision. He pulls back, holding Myungjun’s face in his hands. “I just”—he swallows—”I just want to look at you.”

 

Myungjun turns his head, kissing Bin’s palm. “I love you.”

 

Bin blinks, fighting to keep his eyes open. “I love you. I’ll always love you.”

 

As Myungjun’s eyes close and his body becomes heavy, Bin holds onto him. He leans against the wall, clinging to Myungjun as the darkness welcomes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter is nearly here!! What do you guys think so far? What do you think is going to happen? Leave a comment and let me know! I love reading your comments~


	5. Matched

_”Match simulation series complete. Please wait for assistance.”_

Bin blinks at the white text on a black background before him. As he turns his head, it stays still, sliding out of view and then coming back into view again when he focuses. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the headsets, or to the simulations. Sanha apparently _loves_ using them, according to Minhyuk. Simply because of that fact, Bin doesn’t trust Sanha.

“Are you with me?”

Bin jumps a little at the voice of an operator. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Alright. Sit up for me, would you?”

Bin shifts forward, leaning out of the chair a little. The woman’s hands land against the helmet-like device with a dull knock, lifting it off his head with ease. Bin blinks at the brightness of the room.

“It’s normal to be a little disoriented after a simulation series,” the woman says, carrying the headset to a table on the far side of the room. “Dizziness is a common side effect, as is a feeling of lost time, general nausea, and disbelief. The simulations, as you know, take temporary control of your sense of being to make the situation more realistic.”

Bin nods, swallowing. “Yeah, um, I feel fine. Can you tell me who my Match is?”

The woman hums, picking up a device from the table. “Let’s go over your simulations first. You went through five, correct?”

Bin opens his mouth, closes it, then nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

“The first one, of course, was a test run to see how you respond to general prodders. The System chose a close friend of yours, Lee Dongmin, to stand in, correct?”

“T-That’s right.”

“Your second, third, fourth, and fifth simulations were to determine your Match. The first set you with Hwang Eunbi, a former classmate of yours. The System tends to do that.” The woman looks up from the screen, suddenly smiling. “Please recount what you remember.”

“Uh.” Bin blinks, brows furrowing. He’s grasping at threads just out of reach. “Eunbi, she and I got Matched through the System. We lived until we were old. I think we.. had kids?”

The woman nods. “That’s what my logs show. A standard simulation, really. Probably one of our most common, it tends to help level the playing field. The first simulation is usually of someone that you’ve already met who is also part of the System. That’s why Lee Dongmin was in the first simulation.”

Bin nods, processing the information. It had been Dongmin that got him to participate in this whole thing in the first place. Over the last few years, the company Alpha Match has grown into quite the enterprise. They’ve developed a software that functions like a full-immersion video game, sending whoever wants to participate into a futuristic world where everybody has a Match assigned to them through a program called the System. If it hadn’t been for Dongmin’s success in finding Jinwoo through Alpha Match, Bin probably would’ve rolled his eyes at the notion. Dongmin and Jinwoo have been together happily for a year and a half already, though, so Bin figured it couldn’t hurt to try it out.

“What do you remember of your second round through the virtual System program?” the woman asks, pulling Bin out of his thoughts.

“I think his name was Seungkwan?” Bin says, unsure of his memories.

The woman nods again. “That’s correct, Boo Seungkwan. You set your preferences as general, so the program put you in a situation with another male.” She folds her arms, holding the tablet against her chest. “What else do you remember?”

“I think—” Bin shakes his head. “I think I died?”

“That you did.” The woman unfolds her arms, tapping on the screen. “The details may be slightly fuzzy. That’s perfectly normal. When a person goes through multiple simulations, it’s not uncommon for details to be lost between simulations.” She looks at Bin again. “What about your last simulation? What can you recall?”

“Myungjun,” Bin says immediately, the man’s face flashing in his mind’s eye. “Kim Myungjun. There was a rebellion.”

The woman hums. “Right. The rebellion route is quite rare, but it seems to make our most accurate pairings.”

“Is he my Match?” Bin asks. He isn’t sure why, but the possibility that the answer could be _no_ is making butterflies flutter in his throat.

As she taps on the screen, her faint smile falls away. “I’m sorry, dear. It appears you’re a Glitch. We weren’t able to find a Match for you just yet.”

Bin’s heart sinks. Of course not. He should’ve never believed Dongmin. Bin has tried blind dates and dating apps and websites and now he’s even gone through Alpha Match’s program and not a single one has found him someone.

“It happens sometimes,” she continues. “Just means we need to get you through more simulations. Of course, the proper person for you could also just not be registered in our system.” She taps the screen, then smiles again. “If your match happens to come up in the system, we’ll let you know.”

Bin nods, training his eyes on the tile floor. Maybe he’s just not meant to be with anybody. His heart yearns for someone to share his time with, but maybe he’s destined to be alone.

——————

Bin draws over the characters on his sheet for the thousandth time, tracing the already dark lines with his pencil. _Kim. Myung. Jun._ He’s pathetic. Two weeks have passed and he can’t get the man’s face out of his head. He’s dreamt about Myungjun three times. That’s more than he’s ever dreamed of anybody else in recent memory. Bin is fairly certain he hears Myungjun’s voice sometimes, too, calling out his name. _Binnie. Binnie!_

“Bin!”

Bin sits up quickly, the room spinning for a moment. He blinks at Minhyuk, his roommate and closest friend. Minhyuk stares back at him with concern in his eyes.

“What?” Bin snaps, pushing his hair off his forehead.

Minhyuk breaks into a smirk. “Are you _sure_ you’re alright, man? You’ve been spacey all week.”

“I’m fine,” Bin grumbles. He shoves his pencil and notebook into his backpack, causing more noise than necessary, and stomps past Minhyuk. Hopefully Minhyuk couldn’t see the blush on his cheeks. Hopefully nobody can tell that he’s yearning for a person he’s never actually met.

——————

The clock clicks loudly, the sound resonating through the otherwise silent room. Even Minhyuk’s snores have ceased. Bin stares at the dark room. What would Myungjun be doing at this hour? Maybe he would be at a PC room playing games with friends. Maybe he’s a book worm, and he’s curled up under his blankets with a thick novel. 

Bin shoves his face into his pillow. What is he doing? He shouldn’t be worrying about a stranger. He should be getting sleep, worrying about his tests, his friends, his _family_. Instead, Bin wants to lounge in bed with a person he’s never seen face to face. He wants to hold Myungjun against his chest and smooth out his hair until he falls asleep.

The room is too hot. Bin kicks off his blankets, staring at the cream colored ceiling. He needs to get out of the room and do something. Going for a jog sounds like the best idea to get him tired enough to fall asleep. Jogging around campus probably wouldn’t be great this late at night, but Bin can’t find it in him to care.

It only takes a few minutes for Bin to change into the appropriate clothes and head outside. The air is much colder than he prepared for, but Bin starts his jog anyway. Surprisingly, there are a few people milling about. He tries to shove the ideas out of his head. With the looming buildings and dark shadows contrasting with the light from the moon, Bin can only think of when he was running to the subway entrance to meet up with Myungjun during his simulation. As the thoughts of Myungjun intrude, threatening to overwhelm Bin, he slams his feet against the pavement harder and pushes his jog into a sprint. The thoughts keep pace with him. Myungjun, leaning back against his chest. Myungjun, his hair sticking up in every direction. Myungjun, with fear bright in his eyes. Myungjun, bravery making him stand tall. Myungjun, his hand in Bin’s.

Bin trips, flying forward at an alarming speed. The pavement scrapes against his palms and knees and elbows. It all happens so quickly that he doesn’t even cry out. He rolls to a stop with pain across all his body. He doesn’t even bother getting up, cradling his arm against his chest as he stares up at the dark sky. There aren’t even any stars to comfort him.

After several minutes tick by, Bin sits up. His shoulders ache and, after quickly inspecting himself, he finds that his knees are both bleeding as is his right palm. The walk back to the dorm is quiet and long. It’s hard to clean up his wounds in the dark but he doesn’t dare turn on the lights and risk waking Minhyuk. The light is peeking through the edges of the curtains as Bin pulls his blankets over himself, his arms tucked against his chest. Even as the light fills the room, he still can’t find the sleep he’s seeking so desperately.

——————

“And you went for a run because you were—”

“ _Yes_ , damn. Can’t we stop talking about it?”

“You have to admit, Bin, it’s a bit strange.”

Bin rolls his eyes, focusing on his phone instead of his friends. They’ve all called him out on his odd behavior in what Minhyuk deemed an intervention. He had to tell them about Myungjun. While he had hoped telling them the truth would save him from further questioning, it seemed to cause the opposite.

“You’ve never even met him, though,” Dongmin says. “I mean, when I was told I was Matched with Jinwoo, I didn’t—”

“You did,” Jinwoo interjects. “You called me three times that first day.”

Dongmin’s cheeks turn pink. Bin feels the slightest bit better at that bout of information, but it doesn’t make Minhyuk’s judging stare any easier to manage.

“Why don’t you just try to find him?” Minhyuk says, filling the silence that had developed. “I mean, isn’t there some sort of database or something where you can just find this guy and confess your feelings?”

Bin groans. “I can’t just confess my feelings! He’s never even met me. He might not have even had a simulation about me, so he probably doesn’t even know my name. Don’t you think that’s a little odd?”

“You’ve got it bad, man.” Minhyuk shakes his head. “I mean, _bad_.”

“Shut up,” Bin grumbles. “I’ll figure something out.”

——————

“Have you figured something out yet?”

“It’s been two hours, Minhyuk. Shove off.”

“But have you?”

“Shut up.”

——————

“You’re going to find his number, aren’t you?”

Bin glares at Minhyuk. “What do you take me for? A stalker?”

“You might as well be,” Minhyuk says. “I can see the reflection in your glasses. I know you were looking up his name.”

Bin locks his phone quickly, sitting up on his bed. “I was not.”

“You were. Don’t lie to me.”

——————

“I found him.”

Bin rolls over on his bed so suddenly that he nearly falls off. “What?”

Minhyuk holds his phone out. “Kim Myungjun, 26 years old. His bio says he attended Seoul National, now works at a museum, and he’s using Alpha Match if his photos are anything to go by.”

Bin stares at the small profile photo displaying the brilliant smile of Myungjun that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about. Despite the joy swelling in his chest, there’s a ball of anxiety in his stomach.

“Get his username and message him,” Minhyuk says. “Right now, Bin. You’ve been trying to find this guy for weeks. If you don’t message him, I will, and I promise you don’t want me to—”

“Okay, okay,” Bin mumbles. 

He hands Minhyuk back his phone before taking up his own again. With his fingers shaking, it takes him three tries to type in Myungjun’s username properly. Bin doesn’t bother hitting follow, simply opens up the direct messages and taps on his screen as quickly as his thumbs will let him.

_Hi, this is probably weird, but you were in one of my simulations for Alpha Match and I can’t stop thinking about the simulation. If you’re free, do you think we could meet up some time?_

Bin taps send without thinking, and he immediately tosses his phone to the side. “Oh my _God_ , I really just did that.”

“You’re fine,” Minhyuk says, his voice flat. “Don’t worry.”

“Worry is all I do anymore,” Bin snaps. “What if he says no? What if—oh no, what if he _blocks_ me?”

“He’s not going to block you.”

On cue, Bin’s phone dings. He dives for it, cursing under his breath when it takes too long to unlock. He accidentally closes the notification instead of opening it, so he has to go the long route, opening the app and swiping to his messages.

_Wait, MOON Bin?_

His phone dings again.

_Wow, you really are_

——————

“And he said that he was in a simulation where there was a rebellion, too?”

Bin nods. “Yeah, it’s really weird. I didn’t know Alpha Match could have simulations so similar.”

“Jinwoo and I had similar simulations, too,” Dongmin says, glancing at his boyfriend. “I’ve only talked to a few other Matched couples, but it seems they all had similar ones to their Match.”

“Then why didn’t Bin get Matched with Myungjun?” Minhyuk asks. “I mean, if they were the same.”

“The operator said Bin is a Glitch,” Jinwoo supplies. “It means something would be wrong with him being Matched with Myungjun, or their system just didn’t want to put him together with Myungjun.”

“Are you going to meet him?” Dongmin asks. “You have to meet him.”

Bin rubs his neck. “I don’t know. He doesn’t want to meet up in private, since he doesn’t really know me, but he’s also too busy to do anything.”

“How about the Alpha Match Monthly?”

“Yeah!” Dongmin says, glancing between Jinwoo and Bin. He hums, kissing Jinwoo lightly on the cheek. “That’s a great idea, babe.” 

“Wait, the what?” Minhyuk bites into another chip.

“It’s a party,” Bin says. “Usually a big celebration for Matched couples that happens at the end of every month.”

“You can hang out with us,” Jinwoo says. “At least until he shows up.”

“If he shows up,” Minhyuk mumbles. Dongmin shoots him a look, and Minhyuk smiles widely. “Kidding!”

——————

 

Bin swallows, rubbing his neck. The music from inside the venue is loud already, and he’s nowhere near the entrance. Dongmin is saying something to Jinwoo behind him. Other couples are mingling outside the main door and in line. Most of the people at the event _are_ couples. It’s supposed to be a celebration event, the same one that Alpha Match hosts at the end of every month. They’ll have couples speak later in the night, and there will be rooms set up where people can go through simulations with specific people or like usual. 

Bin can’t focus on any of that, however. His eyes are glued to the signs lining the wall leading to the main entrance. _Looking for someone special? Try your chances with Alpha Match!_ Those words don’t get to taunt him for long. Bin flashes his digital Alpha Match ID to the bouncer, who waves him into the venue. With one last glance at the outside world, Bin steps into the dimly lit venue.

Despite the pounding music, Bin can hear Minhyuk’s voice in his head loud and clear. _Get in. Look for Myungjun. It’s simple, man. If you can’t find him within an hour of being there, just bail. I won’t even get mad at you._ Bin shakes his head. He can’t believe he let Minhyuk, Dongmin, and Jinwoo talk him into this. Showing up to a celebratory Alpha Match event by himself makes him stick out like a sore thumb. Every other person is leaning against someone else or sharing a drink or wrapping their arms around each other as they dance. Bin has never felt more out of place in his life, except for maybe at his third cousin’s best friend’s wedding last summer.

As a man dressed in all white walks by, Bin picks a drink off his tray. He wanders around the venue, eyes flickering between faces. He knows how short Myungjun is in comparison to himself, which makes it slightly easier to level the playing field. He can guess what sort of hair Myungjun will have, as people tend to show up in simulations looking very similar to how they look in real life. There seem to be more short people with short hair than Bin had expected, unfortunately. 

Time ticks by, measured in songs. When the fifth song starts to play, Bin grabs a second drink from a tray. When the eighth song begins, Bin seats himself along the wall to watch the dancing crowd. A loud couple smelling strongly of illegal substances sits beside him in the middle of the ninth song, and by the tenth song, Bin is on his third drink. He doesn’t even like drinking much, but with time slipping away from him, the drinks are all that keeps him around the event.

On his fourth drink during the thirteenth song of his endeavor, someone taps his shoulder. Bin considers ignoring them, because any person trying to make conversation with him at an event like this must be out of their minds. He’s fairly certain he’s drunk, or at least very buzzed, and he had showed up alone. Even though he expects the person to just be someone asking if he wants another drink, Bin spins around and has to bend his head to look at the person who had tapped his shoulder.

He only gets a brief moment to look into those large eyes before he’s tugged down by his shirt collar. Lips press against his and he melts into the embrace. It’s too familiar, despite him never having wrapped himself around someone like this before. Their small body feels familiar, though, and Bin has to remind himself that he has a drink in his hand before he spills it down their back.

“I’m sorry,” the man says once he pulls away. “I’ve had a couple of drinks, and then I saw you, and I just—”

“Junnie,” Bin breathes, running his free hand through the man’s dark hair.

A smile lights up Myungjun’s face, but the lights reflect off tears rimming his eyes. “I never thought I’d get to hear you call me that again.”

“Junnie,” Bin repeats, drawing a laugh out of Myungjun. His laugh his like the sun, and Bin can’t help his own bubbling giggles. “Junnie.”

“It’s me,” Myungjun says, winding his fingers through Bin’s. “But, I—they said—”

“I don’t care.” Bin pulls Myungjun against his chest again. “I don’t care what they said. I don’t need someone else to tell me what I feel.”

Bin can feel Myungjun’s laughter vibrate through his chest. “You’re an idiot, Binnie,” Myungjun says, his voice just barely louder than the music. “Really, a true idiot.”

“But you love me anyway.”

The music melts away when Bin realizes what he said. He pulls his arms away from Myungjun. “I—that’s not what I meant. I just meant that—well, you know, uh—”

Myungjun pulls him down by his shirt collar again, kissing him lightly on the lips. When he pulls away, there’s a wide smile spread across his face. “You’re right,” he says, “I _do_ love you.”

——————

Bin settles his head on Myungjun’s stomach, staring up at the clouds. The grass tickles the backs of Bin’s arms, but he doesn’t dare move. Life feels like a movie. Myungjun’s hand finds its way into his hair, playing with the strands.

“Let’s move out of the city,” Myungjun says, and Bin can feel the laughter in his stomach. “Let’s buy a ranch and just spend all day laying in the grass.”

“What about when it rains?”

“We’ll lay in the hay in the barn.”

Bin smiles. “Hay is itchy, you know. It pokes you everywhere.”

“Let’s do it anyway,” Myungjun says. “You can give up the apartment. Let your friend have it, Minhyuk. He needs his own apartment anyway, doesn’t he?”

Bin tilts his head, looking up at Myungjun. “Or you could move in with me.”

Myungjun sits up slightly, looking down at him. His face is serious for a moment, and then his bright smile flashes. “You mean it?”

Bin nods. “Absolutely. You’ll have to put up with my weird schedules, though.”

“But it also means I’ll get to see you more.”

Bin’s smile mirrors Myungjun’s. “And you’ll get to clean up after me.”

Myungjun smacks Bin’s shoulder, sitting up. “Is that what you think I am to you?” he yells, laughter tinting his words. “I pick up after you _one_ time and now you think I’m your maid? Huh?”

Bin crawls backwards as Myungjun smacks him again. “I take it back!” he cries, laughing as Myungjun tosses an empty water bottle at him. “I take it back!”

——————

Bin swallows, wiping his palms against his pants. “I’m not sure we should do this.”

“Don’t be such a _baby_ ,” Myungjun whines, pushing his shoulder against Bin’s. “My parents love you already.”

“But I’ve never—they don’t know about how we met, and what if they think it’s weird? What if they think I’m, I don’t know, using you or something?”

“But are you?”

Bin looks away from the house and focuses on Myungjun, his boyfriend of seven months. Myungjun, with his unruly hair. Myungjun, with bright laughter. Myungjun, with eyes that shine like the sun. Myungjun, Bin’s other half.

Bin shakes his head. “No, I’m not using you. I love you. But Myungjun, they might—”

“Now,” Myungjun says, his voice firm. “Get out of the car.”

“Myung—”

“Now.”

“Junnie.”

Myungjun kisses him quickly on the lips. “Pet names aren’t going to get you out of this, but nice try.”

Bin swallows around the lump in his throat and swings the car door open.

——————

Bin scratches Myungjun’s head gently. His arm is starting to fall asleep, but he doesn’t dare move. Myungjun is a lot heavier against his arm than he would’ve ever thought before meeting him in person, but Bin has never complained. In fact, he loves the weight of Myungjun’s head against his arm, even when he’s losing circulation. He loves the sound of Myungjun’s even breaths as he sleeps, or his uneven breaths of wakefulness. He loves when Myungjun wraps his legs around his waist. He loves when Myungjun’s hands grasp the front of his shirt. He loves the way the early morning light reflects off of Myungjun’s hair. He could spend years listing all the things he loves about Myungjun.

“You need to go to work,” Myungjun mumbles against Bin’s chest. “You’re going to be late.”

Bin hums, running his hand down Myungjun’s back. “It’s okay.”

Myungjun shakes his head. “No, you’ll get fired.”

Bin smirks, eyeing his jacket across the room. “I think my boss will be okay with me being late today.”

Myungjun whines. “Just go to work, you big idiot. I don’t want you to get fired.”

Bin rolls suddenly, climbing over Myungjun’s body to the far side of the bed. “I told you”—he stumbles out of the blankets, nearly falling as he stands up—”he’ll be okay with me being late today.”

Myungjun frowns. “What are you even talking about?”

Bin digs around in his jacket pocket, glancing back over his shoulder at Myungjun. “Close your eyes, Junnie.”

Myungjun’s brows tug together and his bottom lip sticks out. “What are you—”

“Just do it.”

With a huff, Myungjun closes his eyes. Bin smirks. “Okay, now put your hands over your eyes.”

“I’m not peeking, I swear!”

“I don’t believe you.”

Myungjun’s bottom lip sticks out further, but he covers his eyes anyway. “Okay, now what are you up to? I swear, Bin, you better not be trying to prank me again. You turned my hair yellow last time, and that was not cool.”

Bin laughs softly, climbing on the bed until he’s sitting over Myungjun’s lap. “I promise, this is way better than some dumb prank.”

Myungjun pulls his fingers apart, opening his eyes. “I can look now, right?”

Bin bites his bottom lip, pulling his hands around to his chest and flipping the small box open. Myungjun’s hands slide to cover his mouth.

“I know it hasn’t been very long,” Bin says, “but I can’t imagine spending my life with anybody else. I mean, we went through a _rebellion_ together”—Myungjun lets out a choked laugh—”and your parents seem to like me and my family likes you. I can’t imagine anybody else in my life the way you’ve been in my life. I swear, I must’ve had a good past life to be with someone like you now.”

Myungjun laughs, pushing himself into a sitting position. His arms wind around Bin’s waist as he buries his face in Bin’s stomach. “Idiot,” Myungjun murmurs. “You big idiot.”

Bin laughs. “What? Why am I an idiot?”

“You’re supposed to do it romantically!” Myungjun shouts, looking up at Bin. “You’re supposed to propose at some fancy restaurant next to an ice sculpture of a swan and feed me strawberries and stuff after!”

Bin laughs, crawling to the side and sitting next to Myungjun. “I couldn’t help myself. I was going to wait and plan a nice day, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I’ve been wanting to do this since the day I first saw you at that Alpha Match party. That night I went home and I told myself that I have to propose to you.”

“Idiot,” Myungjun says again, smacking Bin’s leg this time. “Jeez, I’m a mess.” He laughs, wiping tears from his eyes. “You’re—” He groans. “How could you propose now?”

Bin laughs, setting the box on the nightstand. “Okay, pretend it didn’t happen. I’ll take you out to a fancy dinner tonight, and that’s where I’ll ask you, okay?”

Myungjun smiles widely, wiping at his eyes still. “Okay. Our parents have to be there, too, okay?”

Bin nods, reaching for Myungjun’s hands. “Okay, I’ll invite them. I’ll invite our friends, too. I’ll invite everybody we know. Dongmin, Jinwoo, Minhyuk, Sanha, everybody.”

Myungjun crawls into Bin’s lap, wrapping around him entirely. Bin holds Myungjun tightly against his chest. “And to think,” Myungjun says, his words thick from his tears, “we never would’ve met if you weren’t a Glitch.”

Bin snorts in amusement. “Yeah, that stupid system said we weren’t supposed to be together. But I don’t need anybody or anything to tell me that you’re the right person for me.”

Myungjun smacks Bin’s shoulder. “Quit saying cute stuff, or I’m not going to let you go to work.”

Bin smirks. “Yeah? You’re gonna force me to stay home?”

“No,” Myungjun says, pushing Bin’s chest. “Go. Get up. Go to work. I’m not going to be the reason you get fired from your first job.”

“Second job!” Bin protests, untangling himself from Myungjun.

“Working part time during college doesn’t count,” Myungjun says as Bin stumbles out of the bed. “Go, shower. I’ll make breakfast.”

Bin does as told, though he can’t stop himself from sneaking a few more kisses from Myungjun before showering. His hair is still dripping as Myungjun hands him his coffee at the door, leaning up on his toes to kiss him lightly on the nose.

“Be safe,” Myungjun says, pulling open the door. “And make plans for tonight! I expect to be wowed.”

Bin smiles, kissing Myungjun’s forehead. “You will be, Junnie. I promise.”

Myungjun smiles back at him, his radiance brighter than the sun, stars, and moon combined. Nothing can compare to the feeling Myungjun gives Bin. He makes Bin overwhelmed, but also comfortable. He makes Bin’s head float in the clouds, but also feel grounded. He makes Bin feel wild and happy and free and _loved_. Bin doesn’t care what some system says about him. He doesn’t care if some system says he’s a Glitch. If he’s a Glitch, then he wants to always be a Glitch, as long as he can be with Myungjun. With Myungjun, Bin knows he’s found his Match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What an ending!!! Bet you guys didn't see _this_ one coming, did you~? I was really inspired by the Black Mirror episode _Hang the DJ_ , as well as the book series _Matched_ by Ally Condie and _Uglies_ by Scott Westerfield. This was a blast to write, and I want to say thanks to everybody for supporting this series! I hope you enjoyed it~


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